


Paper Roads

by Japo_Chan23



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: :))))))), A smidgen of angst more like, Andrew Garfield is my spidey as always but go ahead and see him as whoever else idc, Cutesy stuff, Dialogue Light, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Healthy Relationships, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kid stories, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Not Beta Read, Not a lot because I don't like dialogue, Paper stars, Peter is in college/almost out, Peter-centric, Please Kill Me, Tags Are Fun, There's like some but not really, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touching, Wade is very nice, all my marvel stuff is peter-centric, big ol' rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 14:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15414816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Japo_Chan23/pseuds/Japo_Chan23
Summary: There was a man on the moon.At least, that’s how the story went.Adults found it endearing.Peter thought it was fucking stupid.





	Paper Roads

**Author's Note:**

> Paper roads (also known as unformed legal roads) may exist only on paper, never having been developed, but they have a legal existence, whether on private or public land. 
> 
> With that being said, I have no idea why that's the title of this.

There was a man on the moon.

At least, that’s how the story went. 

Children would gather around adults at libraries, or curl up next to their guardians on the couch, just to hear the story of the man on the moon. It was simple. That one day, a man decided to make paper stars, so many that the exact number is never known. It was always referred to as countless. He had made so many, that one night, a star appeared in his room, and granted him a wish. His wish was to be on the moon, surrounded by stars and space.  

Sometimes, children claimed that they dreamed of the man on the moon, others say that they’ve made as many paper stars as the man and had their wish granted. That they knew the exact number that would make a star appear in your room. Many claimed that some nights they see the man on the moon wave back at them before they go to bed. 

Adults found it endearing.

Peter thought it was fucking stupid.  

Which was exactly why he started making paper stars everyday ever since his dad told him the story the day he turned five. He taught him how to make them, having bought boxes and boxes of the paper. It took Peter a few hours until he successfully made one that didn’t fall apart or was pinched too much. 

He kept it up after his parents disappeared, but whenever he did the one there was always a few tear stains on the paper. 

It was so dumb. He knew no one would actually just make a paper star everyday of their life, and at one point he knew nothing was going to happen. It was a child’s tale, of course. Only children believed that a man had made a wish on a star and end up on the moon.

Which was his thought process as he glanced at five boxes, each filled with ten mason jars, and said mason jar containing exactly a hundred paper stars. He always had a sticky note filled with tally marks, making sure that he never went over or under a hundred. Just so it was easier to count. 

There was a sixth box, because of course there was. Biting his bottom lip, he sat on the floor, his legs crossed, as he opened the box, only seeing four mason jars. He tapped on one of the lids, before closing the box and shoving it back in the closet with a thud.

Groaning, the fifteen year old sat in the swivel chair by his desk, and began folding another paper star.

When he finished, he dropped it in an open jar on his desk, before marking down a tally on a sticky note that was on his desk. 

“5,475,” he mumbled, toying with the box containing the origami paper. “That’s a lot.”

And then the spider bite happened.

And then Uncle Ben.

Then Doctor Connors, Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn. 

Peter didn’t really like making paper stars anymore. He and Harry used to make them as kids. He had a jar filled of the ones Harry made. It mainly consisted of bright colors like red. 

And then Gwen and him made a jar. And that one consisted of pastels. 

Whenever he visited Gwen’s grave, he would take a box of origami paper and a jar, and just talk to her while filling the jar up. He normally takes the jar home, in fear of someone taking it or tossing it, but it always stayed shut tight at home. There was scotch tape on it, with messy chicken scratch on it labeling it as Gwen’s with a little heart at the end. 

And then he tried to visit Harry at Ravencroft.

That didn’t go well at first. Lots of yelling, crying. Of course Peter had a box of origami paper on him. He left it underneath Harry’s pillow. It became a routine, to just leave a box, and leave with the stars Harry made. He has that all in a jar, of course, labeled Harry, with a blow dryer drawn at the end, along with a lame attempt at a comb. He wasn’t the best drawer in the world. 

Both jars were placed on the bookshelf by his window.

He had some more jars in the closet, by his boxes that were filled with mason jars. One was labeled “Doctor Connors”, which was filled with different shades of green, and another labeled “Uncle Ben” which was filled with shades of blue.

Aunt May had said he may have had some weird obsession with making paper stars, considering how many he had. Of course, the only logical thing to do in that situation, then, was to make a jar for Aunt May, which was mainly made out of yellow and orange. 

When he had moved out and into his own apartment, he took all the paper stars with him. All the ones that were labeled were laid out in the open, while the one’s he made everyday were still in the boxes, sans the one mason jar that wasn’t at a hundred yet. 

“Okay-  _ wait _ . You never hearing about W.B. Yeats theory on life being round makes sense, okay? Life getting wider every time the circle is broken isn’t something everyone knows-”

“For a reason!” Wade interrupted, wagging his finger in front of Peter’s face. “This shit is fucking  _ boring _ , like come  _ ooooooooon _ man. Besides! It’s not like everyone and their mother’s know this story!”

“Wade! Everyone and their mother’s  _ does _ know this story! How the hell can you just not hear about it?” Peter sighed, laying his head in Wade’s lap. They’ve been dating for a few months, but were friends for more than a few years now. Wade moved in not to long ago, saying that he was here all the time anyways. 

“I don’t know Weds, maybe it’s because my parents kind of hated me?” Wade said, flicking at Peter’s forehead with a roll of his eyes. “Petey-Pie, babe, honey bunches of oats, love of my life, apple to my eye, chimichanga to my soul-”

“- Alright Wade I get it-”

“-baby boy blue and red, I never heard these stories. This is the first time I’ve heard of the man on the moon,” Wade finished. He frowned as he started to run his fingers through Peter’s brown locks, pulling at any tangles and knots that he encountered. 

“Do you wanna hear it?” Peter asked, poking at Wade’s hand.’

“Sure.”

“Okay,” Peter whispered. He grabbed Wade’s free hand, starting to play with the man’s fingers, pulling and tugging. “Once, there was a man, who had a dream to go to the moon. He wanted to go, but he couldn’t, because he didn’t meet the qualifications,” Peter said, a majority of his attention on Wade’s hand. “He was pretty sad about it, so he started to make paper stars. He made countless of them, so many in fact, that one day a star appeared in his bedroom, and granted him his wish to be on the moon. So, the story goes, if you make as many stars as the man, than you can have your wish granted,” Peter finished, dropping Wade’s hand.

“Huh.” Wade thinned his lips, twisting a piece of Peter’s hair around his finger. “That’s kind of a short story, Pete, kind of surprising it became so big.”

“It was a book. Children’s book. Something like The Velveteen Rabbit, I guess,” Peter shrugged. 

“So, how many paper stars do you think this man on the moon made? I’m thinking like, 23,058.”

“Definitely not 6,570,” Peter snorted.

“That’s pretty specific.”

“Yeah, yeah it is. Wait, so was your guess-”

With another flick to Peter’s forehead, Wade leaned down a little. “What’s the story that’s going on with that number?”

“Uhm,” Peter glanced at Wade’s face before directing his gaze elsewhere. “My dad told me the story when I turned five. I’ve been making one paper star everyday since, so now I have over six thousand in a box in the closet,” he explained quietly.

“I just thought the jars out in the open were the only one,” Wade said, carding his fingers carefully through Peter’s head once more. 

“Oh, yeah, well, I like making jars filled with stars for people. You know, colors and all of that person’s favorite color or something. Except I keep it.”

“Do you have one for us?”

“What?”

“Like, do you have your colors and my colors mixed together in a cute little jar?”

“No, actually.”

“Well, how about we make it them? You can teach me how to make the paper stars, and then we just have a little jar of stars that represent us.”

“That sounds like a nice idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get to it then.” 

With a quick nod, Peter got up, found an empty mason jar, and came back with multiple boxes of origami paper. Sitting down on the floor in front of the coffee table, he patted the ground next to him as he opened the box and pulled a piece of paper out.

They slowly, but surely, began to fill the jar up with stars that were different shades of red, blue, and black, some stars a little loose, other a little too pinched, but Peter thought it was perfect. Peter left Wade to label it, which could've been a mistake, but wasn't when all Wade put was a drawing of the both of them holding hands with a bunch of hearts around them.

Of course there was a very tiny drawn penis in the corner, but Peter found it endearing, because of course Wade would do that.

**Author's Note:**

> I was alternating between writing this and playing The Last of Us lmaoooooo. I've been playing it a lot more recently, because I absolutely adore it, but idk if I want to write some sort of last of us au. Dumb idea, ik. There was this point where I started writing and was kind of absorbed in it, and Ellie just sighed very loudly and I almost screamed (I did jump though). I should pause the game when I start writing, but nooooooo. 
> 
> Ending is just dialogue because I'm lazy and want to play my game. 
> 
> Anyways this was dumb, it all started because I just wanted to write out sentences and be dumb about it, and at one point I was laying there and just thought, "there was a man on the moon." This happened last night, and like, a day later I looked at it again, and, well. This happened.
> 
> I like the concept of paper stars. We had the origami paper, but idk where the box is. My not blood related brother Brian tried to teach me how to make some, but I kept making them wrong, and they kept falling apart or were too pinched in my opinion. 
> 
> I just like paper stars.


End file.
